


Created in His Image

by glittergrenade



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album)
Genre: Gen, Killjoy priest kid, Low Self-Esteem, Or self-conscious anyway, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 15:24:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3901285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittergrenade/pseuds/glittergrenade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a Killjoy is hard enough. Add "teenage priest" into the mix, and... ouch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Created in His Image

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a lonnng time ago for a contest on deviantART (before the comic came out tbh), but I thought I'd just upload it up here too, so... yeah! It ties into my other stories involving my OC Flickering Revolver, but it should make sense on its own!

I flattened myself against the side of the boulder, my heart pounding in my chest. There was one Draculoid left -- just one enemy left to ghost. I tightened my sweating grip on my silver decorated ray gun, forcing my adrenaline-pumped body to remain still. If I leapt up now, I would no doubt be dusted out immediately. Firefights require thinking, as I had discovered in the past seven years that had passed since the Fires of 2012. Damn, that disaster had caught me very young.

I was seventeen now, and a Killjoy in the Zones. That was no oddity these days. Nope, that wasn't the thing that made me so insanely weird. Subconsciously I fingered my wooden pocket rosary, breathing a half-concentrated prayer under my breath. Soon would be the time to act.

Just then I heard a soft squeal. My eyes trailed to the side -- there, crouched among the sticky desert plants, was a girl. She didn't look much older than me; perhaps by a few years. Her hair was streaked with purple dye, and she looked very scared.

As I gazed at her, so did another. I was quickly aware of the Drac stopping, turning to face the girl. She was absolutely seen.

Damn that.

I leapt out into the open with my zap and fired out a hot concentrated laser beam. As always, my shot felt as if I simply willed it, and voilà, it happened. A smoldering black burnt spot appeared on the Drac's pristine shirt, followed quickly by a red bloodstain, as he fell to the ground. Without waiting around to gaze at my handiwork, I rushed to the Killjoy girl's side. "You alright, tumbleweed?" I quieried concernedly. She looked very shaken.

She nodded slowly, narrowing her eyes at me judgingly -- and I felt myself blushing, self-consciously aware of my appearance. Yeah, I was the weirdest Killjoy in California. I knew that already, thanks.

I'm not a tall guy -- only 5'9", but she looked barely five feet, so now I felt like a giant. I was extremely aware of my tousled dark curls, my freckles, my acne, my mud stained leather green jacket… yet none of these were at all what made me weird. They were the things that would make me a typical, awkward, teenage zonehopper. My weirdness began, you could say, at the black collar around my neck.

"Who the hell are you?" the girl demanded, not exactly the politest question to one who had just saved her ass from probable obliteration.

I smiled anyways, forcing myself to remember my Christlike charity. "I'm called Father Zap. You?"

"Flickering Revolver," she answered, looking bewildered by my easy demeanor. "And I'm doing shiny, thanks. I wouldn'ta gotten in that position in the first place if I hadn't been daydreaming. And, I don't normally daydream. Are you some kinda minister?"

"A Catholic priest," I admitted, and nothing more needed to be said. Yes, I was strange, as she knew too well (and a little too obviously).

Actually, I was a pretty interesting circumstance if I dare say. I'd been aware of my religious calling since I was old enough to remember, but after the Fires, and the Helium War, and the consequential rise of Better Living Industries, my dream had faltered, seeming very unlikely ever to become reality. After all, BL/Ind. was one damn ungodly coorperation, and for the most part, the rebels I knew weren't exactly saints either. So I had turned to fervent prayer, before coming to the quick conclusion that God was obviously on the rebel side! Well, it seemed right. So it must be. So, I became a Killjoy, a child fighting Dracs in the big wild Zones.

Then, one day when I was thirteen, I'd met the pope, in hiding. His kind words had rekindled in my heart the fire of the Holy Spirit, and I'd felt my calling more strongly than ever before -- God really wanted me to be a priest. I discovered that, somehow, even in the danger days, cemenary was still an option; so I enrolled, and studied a couple years till I was done (least it was shortened). Then I was back out in the Zones again, dusting Dracs, as well as administering spiritually to any motorbaby who wanted it. Those weren't many, but for the souls that I did help, it was damn well worth it.

Yes, seventeen was very young to be ordained, but desperate times called for desperate measures, or so my bishop had told me. And now here I was, Killjoy priest. I felt very much like an outsider, even more than your average dust angel.

I sat down, feeling awkward in our silence. Sometimes I felt I actually hated Jesus for calling me to this lonely life… but that was wrong. I _had_ to love Him; I stood in His place, in the seven sacraments and the Mass. Oh, fu--

Heck, I needed to stop swearing in my head. I mentally sent up a prayer in apology. I was such a loser, when it came to being holy. God help me.

"Uh… why were you daydreaming, Revolver?" I asked curiously, trying to get the conversation going milkshake smooth. It wasn't easy.

Wrong thing to say. She blushed furiously, yet still answered. "Oh, uh… I met Fun Ghoul."

I widened my eyes. I had heard stories of the Fabulous Four, and totally wished I could emulate their amazingness against our common enemies. They were the greatest modern fighters I'd ever heard of. Ever. Damn they had horrible reputations in Battery City! "Wow, where?"

"Just in the ghost village, not a mile off," she replied. "They were all in their car…"

"You met all four of 'em, then?" I asked, my eyes wide in amazement, unable to resist interrupting.

Revolver blushed again. "Yeah -- plus that little girl they take around with them. And Show Pony. I talked the most to Fun Ghoul. Party Poison was wounded."

"Badly wounded?" I asked worriedly.

"I dunno…" Revolver frowned at me, than spoke in a tight voice. "I really doubt he would appreciate an offer for Annointing of the Sick and a last confession, Father."

I reddened. Why did everyone always question my motives? Whenever I acted friendly, it was assumed that I was only trying to convert people! Why did it seem so unlikely that I was genuinely trying to be nice, or even genuinely trying to enjoy myself? I was a human being too, not just a symbol of the Church!

But I couldn't say all that. It would be uncharitable. So I forced another smile. "Oh, I know. It's just, they're such great fighters, it would be a red hot burnin' loss if any were… were gone. How were they?"

"Um…" Revolver blushed again. In spite of her… annoyingness… I couldn't deny that she was a very attractive young woman, with delicate features and a gorgeous slender curvy figure…

No. No, I couldn't let myself think about that. I had not only dedicated my virginity to God, but the chastity of my mind also. I couldn't let myself imagine such things, natural as it might be for a boy my age. I had given it all up.

Then suddenly, it occurred to me that this girl's incessant blushing implied a very strong blooming crush on Fun Ghoul.

I grinned. Well, that was interesting! "I hope they're all okay," I said. "Ya sure you are?"

Revolver nodded, allowing me to help her up to her feet. Yay, I loved the satisfaction of being a gentleman. And it wasn't even impure!

"Well!" she smiled genuinely. "Thanks, motorgoblin. I appreciate the save."

I beamed back at her. "No problem, hon. It's what we Killjoys do for one another, huh?"

Revolver shrugged. "You know it. See you around?"

I nodded, smiling even bigger. Sure, I was a priest -- but hey, what straight guy doesn't smile when asked to be seen again by a pretty girl? "Yeah, I'm just kinda out here."

Revolver nodded. "Well, I visit Doctor Death Defying sometimes."

"Shiny," I replied, and she swaggered off to a motorcycle and hopped aboard. She had a motorcycle? Hot!

She waved and zoomed away, leaving me standing alone in the sand. Well…

So I had been misjudged in the beginning. That was only to be expected. I was fuckin' abnormal. But in the end, she had really seemed to accept me… (ha, after all, I could obviously be no competition for lucky Fun Ghoul). I liked being accepted as who I was. A lot. After all, we're all created in His image, and I was only human. A kid.

Feeling lighthearted, I skipped away, hoping in the corner of my brain that I really would see her again. Well, never mind that now. The wilderness surrounded me; and that can mean only one thing. I had more Dracs to ghost!

The End


End file.
